


Heads or Tails

by WattStalf



Series: it's just piss [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Desperation, Gen, Omorashi, Wetting, male omorashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 07:09:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3801370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WattStalf/pseuds/WattStalf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey becomes a bit too dependent on coin flips to make basic decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heads or Tails

**Author's Note:**

> This story is shamelessly self-indulgent, and inspired by a concept explored by Daniel and I during some Two-Face discussion. What can I say? I have such an obnoxiously huge crush on Harvey in Animated Series, I just couldn't resist making him a victim.  
> 

It was known to everyone that, since becoming Two-Face, Harvey Dent had become increasingly more dependent on coin flips to make his decisions. It had started out such a simple thing; if he was faced with a tough situation, he turned it into a simple game of either or. That was the only fair way to decide anything, after all, and as time went on, that started to become the way he decided almost everything.

It was not something that he could control, really. One day, he would be perfectly capable of making a choice on his own, and the next, he would feel a now-familiar nagging urge to flip until he could not imagine ever being capable of deciding such a thing. And from that point on, he would have no choice but to flip every time he was faced with that decision.

And on one day, he found himself in a rather bad situation because that. He had been sitting in his hideout, completely alone. He was completely alone because, while he had narrowly escaped his last brush with the law, his henchmen had not. He needed some time to regroup and plan for his next move. There were plenty of thugs for hire in Gotham, but he was a very picky man, and that meant he had a lot of thinking, researching, and coin flipping to do before he could settle on any two henchmen.

And it was while he was doing exactly that that his concentration was broken by a sharp twinge from his bladder. He had been too focused on his search for hired help to really think about anything else, but now his bladder had filled to the point that he had to think about it, and as he thought about it, he started to feel that damned nagging. It was as physical as it was mental and his thumb twitched as he became hyper-aware of the weight of the coin in his pocket.

He tried to reason with himself, telling himself that there was no sense in flipping over this; getting up and going for a piss was not an important decision to be made and he already knew exactly what he should do. And yet he was frozen in his chair, as the less reasonable part of him insisted that he could not decide this by himself.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled, pulling the coin from his pocket. “Heads, I go now. Tails, I wait an hour and ask again.” And he positioned the coin on his thumb, flipping it. Tails.

He growled a bit under his breath before going back to work. He could feel a dull throb in his bladder, but he knew he could hold it for another hour. It was only the slightest of inconveniences and he thought that perhaps it was a good thing he had flipped. He really did need more time to find proper henchmen and he really was capable of holding it for longer.

He was quickly able to forget his swelling bladder and the entire two-liter he had had to drink earlier- if he did not drink it in one sitting, it would no longer be a two-liter when he returned to it- and really believed that everything was going to be just fine for him.

And for the first half hour, it was. He barely noticed the dull throbbing, but after thirty minutes, it had grown to be somewhat painful. He found himself constantly shifting around in his seat, squirming and fidgeting to the point that he could not keep a steady focus for longer than a few minutes. He grit his teeth and swore under his breath, crossing his legs at the ankle. This was no good. He still had so much time before he could ask again, and there was no way he could concentrate on anything now.

Time passed achingly slowly and he could practically feel his bladder filling with each passing minute. He wanted more than anything to just piss and be done with it, and hated that the only thing standing between him and his bathroom was a damn coin that he was far too dependent on. But he couldn't go against that decision, as much as his bladder wanted him to.

For the last ten minutes, he stood up and began pacing impatiently. Moving around helped a bit, but the footsteps jostled him more than he would have liked and just as he stopped pacing and settled on simply shifting his weight from foot to foot, the minute hand ticked on his watch, signifying the hour had passed.

He quickly pulled out his coin, saying, “Alright, this time, tails and I only wait a half hour before I ask again.” And he flipped it again, hoping desperately that he would get what he wanted. He caught it, and flipped it over into his open palm.

Tails again.

“Damn it!” he snarled, shoving it back in his pocket. He wondered why he was having such rotten luck today, but it wasn't something that he could really question. Still, he had to piss terribly, and another half hour seemed like an eternity to wait, but he had to. He didn't know why he had to, but that was what the coin had said, so that was what he had to do.

Harvey felt like an idiot as he alternated between bouncing up and down on his heels and shuffling around in place. He was a grown man and a hardened criminal; he shouldn't be reduced to a squirming child so easily! He clenched his thighs together, settling on bouncing for the time being. Thank god no one was here to see him in such a pathetic state.

His bladder throbbed and pulsed uncomfortably, feeling stretched beyond it's natural capacity. He was positively bursting, with both fists tightly clenched and a scowl on both sides of his face. Though he was at odds with himself about the whole concept of flipping for a bathroom break, he was in complete agreement on one thing: holding it for this long was the absolute worst.

If he had thought time passed too slowly before, that was nothing compared to what he was experiencing now. When he felt himself leak a small amount, he almost yelled in anger and had to suppress the sudden urge to punch through the nearest wall. He had to piss, dammit! Why, why, why was he stuck in a situation like this? This didn't seem fair, and yet it was; the coin had landed on tails.

He changed his bouncing up a bit, bending one knee at a time with his thighs rubbing tightly together. He was going to piss his pants if he didn't get a good flip the next time and he knew it. He knew it damn good and well, and still he could not overcome the part of him saying that he had to flip again, that he could only cut the next wait time down to fifteen minutes, that he had to listen to the flip.

He felt another spurt escape and jammed his right hand between his legs, grasping at his cock to stem the flow. Again, he wanted to punch through a wall, or maybe a window, or really just to break anything he could. Here he was, the notorious Two-Face and the once respected Harvey Dent, reduced to _this_ \- and all for what? For some goddamned bad luck and a lousy coin toss!

By the time the half hour was up, he had both hands between his legs and had taken to a pattern of bouncing each leg, then his whole body, then rocking back and forth a bit, then starting back over. He had only leaked on other time and had managed to stop it rather quickly. If luck was in his favor this time, he would make it. If it wasn't...well, that wasn't something he wanted to think about right now.

He could barely will himself to let go of his crotch long enough to pull out his coin, and felt another spurt as he did so. His hand shook as he flipped it, and he barely missed catching it. He held his breath as he opened his hand to look at it, hoping and praying for heads...but it was tails. Yet again.

“Fuck, fuck!” he shouted, letting out a frustrated growl. “I'm going to fucking piss myself!” He knew he couldn't make it another fifteen minutes, not with the way his bladder ached and the way he had been leaking. There had to be some way to placate both sides of him, some sort of compromise that would not result in him soaking his pants.

“Best two out of three, okay?” he mumbled. Again, he was shaky as he flipped the coin, and again, he barely caught it. This time, however, he had turned up heads. Yes! If the next flip was in his favor, he would be in the clear after all!

It seemed his luck really had turned around, for when he flipped the third time, he once again got heads. At last, at long, long last, he could go to the bathroom. His boxers were rather damp, yes, but he hadn't felt anything on his pants yet, so it would be as if nothing had happened. He really was going to be just fine.

Returning both of his hands to his crotch, he shuffled, doubled over from the effort of holding it, to his bathroom. He picked up speed as he felt another spurt, but this only caused another to follow and he hissed, slowing down. If he went to fast, he leaked, but going slowly only prolonged the relief he so desperately craved.

He threw open the bathroom door, nearly throwing it off the hinges as he did so. He was just a few feet away now, and he began to fumble with his zipper and he walked. His hands were too shaky, however, and he could not get a decent hold on it to unzip without letting go of his cock, which was currently not an option.

“Come on!” he shouted at himself, but it was no use. He could not get the zipper quickly enough and he could not hold on a second later. His bladder had taken all it could, and despite his tight grabs and resumed bouncing, it begun to empty in a steady, warm stream of piss.

He let out a loud groan, letting go as he felt the liquid flood his pants, quickly running down his leg, darkening the white half of his pants considerably. His breathing was quick and heavy as he pissed himself, and the sound of it splattering on the tile floor echoed throughout the bathroom. When he no longer had any more left in him, his pants were wringing wet, there was a large puddle on the floor, and his bladder ached a bit as it recovered from being stretched so much.

The relief felt so wonderful that he felt half of his mouth start to quirk up in a grin before he remembered exactly how furious he was that he had wet himself. And furious he was. He slammed his fists down on either side of the sink and snapped, “If it wasn't for that damn coin, this wouldn't have happened! And I was so close, too!”

He figured that the worst thing about this was the simple fact that he had finally been given the permission he needed to go to the bathroom, and that he had been so close to making it. He let out one last irritated growl before he peeled off his pants to begin cleaning up.


End file.
